


academic dishonesty

by bicroft



Series: SidGeno Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Professors, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:51:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bicroft/pseuds/bicroft
Summary: It was like a romance novel, Zhenya thought as he ducked his head as Professor Crosby passed, avoiding eye contact.  A classic romance: the kind with pining, potential soulmates passing like ships in the night, with love left undiscovered in the words they didn’t say, and–“He has a nice ass, Zhenya.” Sasha said, taking a sip of his coffee and unabashedly staring at Professor Crosby’s retreating form. “But, if I have to watch you keep composing poems about it, I’m going to lose my mind.”





	academic dishonesty

**Author's Note:**

> "Anonymous asked: sidgeno where they're professors ?!"
> 
> find and prompt me @sidsknee on tumblr!

It was like a romance novel, Zhenya thought as he ducked his head as Professor Crosby passed, avoiding eye contact. He looked up just in time to properly watch him walk away, though, and mentally tacked on that it was a _classic_ romance; the kind with pining, potential soulmates passing like ships in the night, with love left undiscovered in the words they didn’t say, and–

“He has a nice ass, Zhenya.” Sasha said, taking a sip of his coffee and unabashedly staring at Professor Crosby’s retreating form. “But, if I have to watch you keep composing poems about it, I’m going to lose my mind.” 

“I’m not composing _poems_.” Zhenya said, because he was composing _prose_ , and that was something entirely different. “And, ass is better than amazing. I’m know; expert on good ass.” 

“You’re a Russian literature professor, not an Anatomy professor.” Sasha snorted. “Unless you have a PhD in ass you didn’t tell me about.”

Zhenya laughed quietly and hid his grin in his mug when some of their colleagues passed. Everyone else at the university regarded the Russian Studies department as a bit of a foreign land, inhabited by strange and loud people, and he tried best he could to not live up to their expectations. American academia was odd to him, still, and he didn’t see the point in acting like he was stoic and miserable talking about the things he loved, but he could at least give a few inches when he wasn’t in class. “I just start post-doctorate in ass.” he mumbled, as seriously as he could manage. which set Sasha off howling with laughter, and several of the other professors milling around staring at them. Zhenya just smiled at them.

“You _wish_  you were.” Sasha said eventually, once he’d calmed down, wiping tears from his eyes. “Then, maybe, you can get _Professor Crosby_ to help you with your research.”

“Pardon?” 

Zhenya jumped almost  a full foot in the air and just narrowly avoided spilling his coffee all over himself _and_ the newly appeared Sidney Crosby. He was far, far too quiet for any grown man to be. “Alexander talking about potential paper I was considering writing,” Zhenya lied easily, watching Sasha wrinkle his nose at the use of his full name. “Up in the air, right now. Definitely talk to you if I’m decide to write.” 

“I’d be glad to help.” Crosby said, grinning at him. Zhenya almost melted on the spot. “It’d be sort of… quid pro quo, really, because I was just going to ask you a similar favor.”

“Really?” Zhenya asked, and tried to reign himself in from lighting up like a teenager who just got asked to prom. “Of course, what  you need help with?”

“I was planning on maybe publishing something on Russian literature during and dealing with the Second World War.” Crosby asked, and if Zhenya hadn’t known better, he would say he sounded a little _shy_ about asking. “And I was wondering if you’d be willing to offer a little input? Or, rather, a lot of input. I know about the actually Russian war effort, but- I’m a little under informed on the cultural aspects, I’ll be the first to admit.” 

“Whatever you want to know.” Zhenya said quickly. Crosby grinned at him again, and _shit_ , Zhenya really needed to start buffing up his defenses. 

“Mind if I pick your brain over dinner?” Crosby asked, and Zhenya was going to _lose his mind_  over the hopeful, almost tentative curl his smile took. 

“Thursday good?” Zhenya asked, hoping to god he didn’t sound as breathless as he thought he did. 

Crosby nodded quickly. “Perfect. Around seven? I can  meet you at your office, and we can go over together; I know a place within walking distance that’s great, and unlikely to be crowded with students.”

“Perfect.” Zhenya said. “See you then.”

“See you then!” Crosby echoed, and then he was gone before Zhenya could blink. 

“ _Perfect_.” Sasha said in a breathy falsetto, batting his eyelashes and cackling. “Oh, Zhenya, you’re _fucked.”_

“Fuck you, Sasha.” Zhenya said, but he was grinning behind his coffee, so the words sort of lost their bite. 

“I’ll help you pick out a good suit for your date Thursday.” Sasha said, patting him on his shoulder. 

“Not a date,” Zhenya hummed, even though his traitor heart wanted to say otherwise. “And, you have shitty suits. Why I let you help?”

“I have the _best_ suits!” Sasha squawked, which spiralled them into a debate about fashion that Zhenya only put a sliver of his brainpower to. He already couldn’t wait for Thursday. 

* * *

Despite what he’d said, Zhenya did let Sasha at least help him pick out a tie for his date, and he was rewarded at the end of the day with a thorough once-over from Crosby that he was pretty sure he didn’t entirely imagine. 

“Shall we?” Crosby said, nodding away from the building. Zhenya hummed, and fell in step beside him. 

“So, Professor-” he started, but, Crosby cut him off. 

“I’m pretty sure you’re a year older than me, and not in any of my classes.” he pointed out. “So- Sid. Call me Sid.” 

“Sid.” Zhenya echoed, his heart fluttering. “Call me Zhenya, then.” That was- well, it was surely more than offering a colleague his first name, but when the hell had Zhenya ever been subtle in his life?

“Zhenya.” Sid wrapped his tongue around the name better than most native English speakers he’d heard try, and Zhenya was suddenly very taken with the idea of getting him to say it more and more, however he could. “You were saying, Zhenya?” 

“Just wondering where you want to start, with you paper.” Zhenya said, and Sid looked confused for a moment. Zhenya frowned, and elaborated: “About Russian literature during World War II?”

“My- oh! Right, sorry, the paper.” Sid said, and he turned a delightful pink color that made Zhenya forgive his forgetfulness right off the bat. “I, uh… well. Any information you have, I’ll readily take; I think I told you before, my knowledge of Russian culture at the time is spotty, at best. I should have probably taken a lot more time to study it than I have.” 

“I know feeling.” Zhenya said, smiling at him, and then clearing his throat before he started talking again. “Well- most Russian literature at time Soviet controlled, really- few dissenters, but, a lot of their work didn’t get published until after the war, and…”

Zhenya kept talking as they walked, and he was more than a little pleased that Sid seemed to be hanging on to everything he said. He wasn’t taking notes, so, Zhenya assumed his memory was just as good as the rumors said. 

He took a break from lecturing when they sat down in the restaurant, and took a second to look around. It definitely wasn’t filled with undergrads, which Zhenya appreciated, but it was definitely also a little fancier than he’d anticipated.

He shoved the thought aside, though, and just smiled. He wasn’t going to be nervous about this; there was nothing to be nervous about. It was just two colleagues, talking, having dinner, discussing their fields. Nothing too big. “Nice place,” he made himself say. 

“You think?” Sid asked, looking around like he was just considering the decor for the first time. “I mean- yeah, it is. I’ve never been before; it came recommended from a friend.” 

“Thank friend for me.” Zhenya said, adding a wink because he’d lost his damn mind. Sid’s blush was well worth it though; Zhenya was going to have to find a way to work in the fact that pink was Sid’s color, somehow. He deserved to know. 

Sid smiled at him, and laughed. “Oh, believe me, I will.” 

They sat there for a moment, quiet, before Sid cleared his throat. “I, uh… believe you were saying something about… Voznesensky, earlier?” 

“Yes!” Zhenya said, more than eager to pick up where he’d left off. It wasn’t often he got people who were genuinely interested in what he taught outside of the classroom, and he was more than happy to have Sid’s full attention. 

“Sure I’m not boring you?” he asked after they’d ordered. Sid shook his head quickly. 

“You’re a great speaker.” he said. “And, it’s a pretty interesting topic.” 

“Thank you,” Zhenya said, flushing a little himself. “Still feel a little bad, though; sit here all night, talk your ear off, not let you talk a little.” 

“Huh? Oh.” Sid laughed again, sounding nervous, now. “I wouldn’t even know _what_ to talk about.” 

“I’m not ever get to know you, before.” Zhenya said, a bit tentative, hoping he wasn’t pushing. “So- just talk about yourself. What make you love history, make you want to teach, what else you like to do?”

“Well,” Sid said, sounding unsure at first, but, once Zhenya got him talking, he just kept going- and, Zhenya _loved it_. From what he’d picked up from students, and at a distance at staff functions, Sid was a chatterbox, and he was happy to finally be on the receiving end of it. 

If you asked him later, Zhenya wouldn’t be able to tell you much about what he ate or, really, anything other than Sid- but, it was still one of the best nights out he’d had in a long time. And, thankfully, Sid seemed to share that sentiment, as he looked a little sad when their waiter brought the cheque. “This was fun,” he said. “And, I mean- also very informative, thanks for your help. If you’re maybe free next week we could… do it again?”

“Yes.” Zhenya said automatically. “Would love to do again.” 

“If you- wanted to maybe trade numbers, we could arrange something? I’m not really sure what your schedule is.” Sid said, already pulling out his phone, and Zhenya was more than willing to trade. 

They walked back to campus together, and the conversation kept flowing easily, both of them loitering by Zhenya’s car for quite a bit longer than necessary or polite. A small, almost convincing part of his brain whispered at Zhenya to invite Sid home, invite him in, invite him to sleep over, maybe, but he had enough sanity left to figure that that pushed the boundaries of propriety more than the rest of the evening already had. 

“I’m… talk to you soon?” Zhenya said, finally. 

Sid smiled softly and nodded, taking only a beat before stepping away from Zhenya’s car. Zhenya watched him go, same as he always did, and resisted the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel almost the whole way home. When he got inside, the house was empty, except for Dixi, who started yelling at him the moment he stepped inside. 

“I know, late.” he sighed, leaning down and scooping her into his arms, scratching behind her ears until she settled a bit. “I’m upset come home alone, too.” 

Dixi gave another quiet mewl, which Zhenya chose to read as a sigh, and he set her down in front of her bowl so that he could feed her. She ate as he went through his nightly routine, and by the time Zhenya was turning out the lights in his bedroom, she had jumped up beside him on the other pillow. 

“If I take Sid home, you have to sleep in cat bed.” Zhenya mumbled, and Dixi made a huffing noise that probably meant ‘not fucking likely’, but Zhenya chose to read as ‘good night.’

* * *

Sid and Zhenya did meet up for dinner again- several nights a week, actually, trading off paying. And then dinner every other day became coffee and lunch _every_ day, and walking from their cars together in the morning and back in the evening, sitting together at interdepartmental meetings- 

“If I’m not know better, Zhenya,” Sasha said one day, propping his feet up on Zhenya’s desk unprofessionally. “I’d think you were trying to replace me as your best friend.” 

“Sid is a better best friend than you.” Zhenya said, pushing Sasha’s feet off his desk on his way back to sitting down. He’d been pacing for ages now, and he needed to stop before he wore a path in his carpet. 

“What’s your problem?” Sasha asked, putting his feet back exactly where they’d been. Zhenya made a frustrated noise. 

“I’m run out of things to tell Sid, for paper.” he said mournfully. “Not want to let him down.”

“You mean ‘don’t want to give him a reason to stop paying attention to you.’” Sasha snorted, but, he did take his feet off Zhenya’s desk, which was as nice as he got. 

“Been through every book I own, every book in libraries, order more online- I tell him everything I know.” Zhenya lamented. 

“Read other articles.” Sasha said. “Get new perspective, outside look. Maybe you can pick something out of that- or, at least, help him scope out the competition.” 

Zhenya’s face lit up in a heartbeat. “ _Genius_ , Sasha.” he crowed, scrambling to open his computer. “Now, leave.” 

“Call me genius and then kick me out; _rude_.” Sasha said, but, he got up and closed the door behind him, which was why he was still in the running for the ‘best friend position.’ 

As soon as the door was closed, and he got his computer running, Geno took to searching. He was done with classes for the day, and the only engagement he had was talking to Sid later, so he had time to dig deep, and find some really good, informative talking points. 

Or, they _would_ have been informative talking points, if not for what he found digging deeper. He was surprised to find an older paper on the topic linking back to his university, and even more surprised to see who’s name it was under. 

_A Study in The Influences of The Second World War and Soviet Policy During the Time on Russian Literature by Sidney Crosby._

Zhenya read through it, brow furrowing more and more as he read on. Everything he’d told Sidney- or, practically everything- was already here, and with the date it had been accredited to being several years old, it wasn’t likely Sid had just already published the article and forgotten to tell Zhenya about it. 

He just stared at his screen for a moment, disbelieving before his phoen buzzed. It was a text from Sid.

_Class ended a little earlier than I thought it would. Meet for coffee?_

Zhenya frowned, but texted back _))._ Sid would know what that meant; Zhenya needed to go print out an article. 

* * *

Sid was already waiting for him in their usual spot when Zhenya got to the quieter café on campus, and he made himself not be so enamored with the fact that they had a _usual spot_  together for a moment. He was supposed to be _angry_ , damn him. 

“Everything okay?” Sid asked as soon as he sat down, pushing Zhenya’s coffee across to him. He’d already ordered, damn _him_ and his Canadian niceties. It had been _Zhenya’s_ turn to pay.

“Fine,” Zhenya said, even though it wasn’t. “I’m just find interesting paper today.” 

“Oh!” Sid said, grinning. “What about?”

“Russian literature during World War II.” Zhenya said. “Just what you’re needing for paper- even better, really, because very easy to cite article you wrote yourself.” 

Zhenya would admit it was a little overdramatic of him to slap a printed version of the article down onto the table, but then again, he also thought he deserved to be at least a little dramatic right now, considering. Sid’s face went ghostly white, but, he didn’t say anything, so Zhenya started in again. 

“If you’re already write paper on topic- _good_ paper, already know everything I’m tell you- then why ask me? Why take me to dinner, ask me to talk, lead me on about paper that you-”

“I didn’t know how else to talk to you!” Sid blurted, face going from pale white to bright red in seconds. “I… look. I’d been meaning to talk to you for years, because I sat in on your first lecture when you first came and you’re… god, Zhenya, you’re an _amazing_  speaker, you’re so passionate, and-” Sid smiled a little, sheepish. “You’re… hot. And nice! So, I wanted to ask you out, but when I worked up the courage to, Ovechkin was there, so I just… made up a paper.” 

Zhenya blinked. “Make up paper… to take me on date?” It _had_ been a date! 

Sid dropped his gaze, staring into his coffee cup, and nodded. Zhenya grinned, and reached out.

“If you’re want to go on date, Sid.” he said, taking both of Sid’s hands in his own, prying his fingers away where they threatened to collapse his cup. “Then all you say is ‘Zhenya, I want to take to dinner.’ I’m say yes.”

“You would have said yes?” Sid asked, endearingly hopeful. 

“Still say yes, if you as right way.” Zhenya hummed, squeezing his hands and winking. Sid laughed- honked, really, the way he did when he was nervous- and cleared his throat. 

“Zhenya,” he said. “I like you a lot, and I’d love to take you to dinner. Romantically.” 

“Well,” Zhenya drawled, as if he had to think about it. “Since you ask so nice, I’m love to. But, I’m count all other dinners before as dates, so…”

“We can count them.” Sid laughed, squeezing Zhenya’s hands back. “Anything you want.” 

“Want to kiss you.” Zhenya said somewhat dreamily, loving how Sid flushed again. “But, think is not best place.” 

“I’m done with classes for the day.” Sid said breathily. “If you wanna… go somewhere else.” 

“Come home with me.” Zhenya said, standing, but not letting go of Sid’s hand. “Not for- sex, but for kissing.” 

“I’m not adverse to the idea of sex.” Sid said, and he sounded so deadpan when he said it, Zhenya couldn’t help but grin. 

“Neither am I,” he said. “But, kiss you first. Kiss you, and introduce you to Dixi.” 

Sid wrinkled his nose, confused. “Who’s Dixi?”

“Someone I’m have to kick off her throne, now.” Zhenya said, but he didn’t explain further as he tugged Sid out the door. “You love her, promise.” 

“Well,” Sid said, following easily, and smiling warmly at Zhenya. “If you say so, it must be true.” 


End file.
